meemuncher

Me'a Kai : The Food and Flavours of the South Pacific book review

2011-01-27T13:57:00.020+10:00

Me’a Kai: The Food and Flavours of the South Pacific
By Robert Oliver with Dr Tracy Berno and photos by Shiri Ram

As Australia Day rolls around every year, I always pause to deliberate on the issues that inevitably crop up during this time of year. What it means to be Australian, how Australian-ness is celebrated and what is deemed to be un-Australian. There are quite a few perspectives floating around. It is often not a unanimous celebratory day for all, depending on which side of the fence you sit. Most call it Australia Day, others Invasion Day and some, even Survival Day. All are legitimate perspectives in my opinion and should be acknowledged. Neighbours of mine cooked up a fantastic barbecue lamb feast that would have put a huge smile of Sam Kekovich’s face! I thought I might celebrate a bit of reflective post-Australia Day with a book review on a cuisine that is not part of our vocabulary. Many groups of Islander peoples have contributed significantly to the building of the Australian nation up in northern Queensland and Northern Territory. So why don’t we celebrate Australia Day with some islander food? Australia is an island nation surrounded by water. The Pacific is also made up of island nations and is surrounded by a bounty of beautiful produce from the sea.

Recently, I found a comprehensive and beautiful book on Pacific Islander cooking. This publication comes from Random House New Zealand. And what a fantastic job they’ve done. This book will prove an invaluable resource for those craving diverse South Pacific recipes and stories from Samoa, Rarotonga, the Cook Islands, Vanuatu, Fiji, Tahiti and Tonga. The author, Robert Oliver has mapped out the book with care. In it you’ll find cultural and social narratives about land, lost heritage and how locals are regaining cultural pride through keeping alive traditional recipes. This is a big project – all these stories and recipes are captured within its 493 pages. This book will no doubt inspire you to plan a holiday to the South Pacific with its photographs of toddlers sipping from young coconuts, landscapes full of swaying, coconut-laden trees, perfect idyllic beaches, hyper-colourful markets and smiling friendly locals.

(preparing lap lap over hot rocks)

Readers are introduced to cooking with coconut in all its various uses. You can drink it, milk it, turn it into oil, grate it for food and ferment it for an extra taste sensation. Banana leaves get a big look-in. Surely it’s nature’s original, environmentally-friendly food wrapper. Lovos (earth ovens) or hangis to you Kiwis out there are lovingly described; let’s not forget the Samoan umu (or above-ground spit) and we learn all sorts of interesting ways of cooking with seawater and bamboo. There is a useful market guide to ingredients too. Oliver writes of South Pacific markets brimmingwith amaranth (also a Chinese favourite leafy veg), Fijian river ferns, sweet potato leaves, taro leaves, bananas and plantains, wild lemons called molikana, mangoes, Tahitian apples. Seasonal seafood harvests like balolo (or coral worm tails – apparently they taste like caviar according to the author), sea cucumbers, glassweed (a seaweed gelling agent), and sea grapes. Exotic ingredients like duruka (Fiji asparagus) or heart of sugarcane, hearts of palm, and Polynesian chestnuts. All these things I have yet to try!

(that's not a spread - THIS is a spread!)

From Samoa, we have umu-baked pawpaw bread (wrapped in banana leaves) with coconut caramel sauce. Plantain soup with ginger, balsamic vinegar and curry powder being predominant bedmates, and reef clams with tomato, chilli and vodka salsa.

Rarotongans love their pawpaw breakfast jams, starfruit chutneys, uto pancakes (uto is fruit that develops inside a sprouting coconut!), raw tuna salad with pawpaw seeds and coconut rolls. Those who want to try these coconut-rich rolls can buy them at selected Islander bakeries in Brisbane.

Fijian delicacies are featured, such as taro-leaf wrapped river shrimps, octopus baked in banana leaf, roasted chicken with Polynesian chestnuts and Tamarind gravy, Kokoda (a kind of South Pacific ceviche marinated in coconut milk and limes.

Oliver also gives the Indo-Fijian communities a look-in. We don’t find a lot of Fijian-Indian food much in Brisbane. Cowpeas with aubergines, mangrove mud crab curry, goat and green pawpaw curry. Oliver also sweeps the Fijian-Euro communities for fusion gems. Try chilled rourou soup (taro leaf) with coconut milk, coconut cream pies and mango puddings.

In Tahiti, the locals love raw fish. Fish tartares abound – these are made with super fresh cuts of mahi mahi, tuna and snapper. The French influence can be seen in pawpaw ratatouille, La Bouillabaise Tahitienne with fresh seafood and coconut milks – these dishes always have an Islander twist. It may be fish steaks with a blue cheese sauce but served with breadfruit chips.

Tonga serves up watermelon smoothies (complete with fresh grated coconut and coconut milk!), warm young coconut drink with lemongrass and cassava flour and the delicious Ota Ika (Tongan ceviche). Those interested in trying some of these Islander delicacies head to Matauaina’s Takeaway at 268 Kingston Road, Slacks Creek.

(Ota Ika - tuna loin marinated in lime juice & coconut milk)

Me’a Kai celebrates the diversity that exists in the Pacific and although they share a lot of common ingredients, each island nation imbues its food with different and daring twists. I have learnt so much from reading this book and thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful photographs taken by Fijian photographer, Shiri Ram. Now if only Brisbane has more Islander food places! This is a must-read for all foodies.

A dash of Baba Nyonya

2010-12-06T16:24:00.023+10:00

Think pineapple tarts. Think beaded shoes. Think antiques. Think Nyonya kuihs (cakes) and pastries. Where do we think when we think of these things? We think of Melaka, of course! After a somewhat underwhelming eating sojourn in Singapore, we made our way into Malaysia with the promise of good, cheap street food. Melaka is known for its Portuguese ruins and promises an interesting historical past. I never paid too much attention when I was in school in Malaysia but I do recall tidbits of Melakan history. Melaka was a thriving port in the early 15th century. It was an important trading route with China being one of its biggest traders. To cut the history lesson short: Chinese merchants and families intermarried with local Malays over the ensuing generations, and as a result, we have a very unique group called the Peranakans. Or baba and nyonyas as they are so often called. Their cuisine is unique and is a fusion of Chinese and Malay flavours. You don’t find much representation of this subgenre of Malaysian food in restaurants overseas so we were very excited to see there were lots of Nyonya restaurants to choose from while we were in Melaka. Alas, Monday evenings, we discovered, is not conducive to dining in restaurants in town. Most interesting Nyonya restaurants we’d walked past in the day, and made mental notes to visit later were all shut. Our hotel concierge had recommended two well-reputed restaurants but they were all shut. After much disappointment and a lot more walking around we found one restaurant that was open – just. We had to ask the proprietor to open the doors for us – they were closing up for the night. They very kindly took pity on us and our loud, rumbling stomachs helped a bit. We tried to order some dishes but many of them had sold out so these were our picks.

Itik Tim soup here consists of salty duck pieces with preserved salted mustard leaves. My grandmother does a fabulous Teo Chew version of this preserved vegetable and duck soup for my father (but with leftover roast duck, salted mustard, fresh mustard, dried whole chillies, tamarind peel and tomatoes). It’s his favourite soup and he can drink gallons of this rich, hot, sour and salty broth.

(our dinner at Anak Nyonya Restoran)

The cubes of spongy-looking custard is otak otak Melaka-style. The otak otak I’m used to are usually wrapped up in banana leaves and either steamed or grilled. These cubes were an onslaught of flavours, chilli, turmeric and kaffir lime leaves punch through and the texture was a good mixture of smooth and slightly coarse fish meal. Think spicy fish mousse for those of you who haven’t yet tried it.

Ayam masak merah or red chilli chicken is a favourite dish with many Malaysians, and is usually eaten with mounds of rice. This version had some fiery chilli heat for extra kick. The sauce was very rich and had an almost caramelized/treacley consistency.

Cincaluk omelette is another popular Nyonya dish. Fermented tiny shrimps are beaten into the egg mix and shallow-fried – the texture is springy and very light. Delicious!

Our last dish, chap chye is a typical vegetarian dish you’ll find in many households on the first and fifteenth days of the month. Devout Buddhists observe vegetarian days on the first and fifteenth days of the month and this dish features heavily on the menu. It’s a comforting dish of braised cabbage, wood ear fungus, lily buds, mung bean vermicelli and bean curd skin.
Here are other food ramblings in Melaka town.

The Jonker Street markets offer a mix of touristy offerings and locally-made products. You’ll find this gentleman who runs a mobile popiah stall at the markets. Popiah fillings can be as economical or as luxurious as you want. Typical fillings consist of shredded yam bean, carrots, firm bean curd, pork and a heap of shallots and finely shredded lettuce. Some more upmarket popiah makers fill their thin skin wrappers with crab and other such indulgent fillings!

This Jonker Street Market popiah seller’s fillings (from memory) were very tasty despite lacking in luxurious ingredients, and made extra tasty by a dash of hoisin and chilli sauce. The guy handled dirty notes and coins – all the while preparing these parcels! Maybe that’s why they tasted so good!

Here is another memorable meal. Lunch at Hoe Kee for Melaka’s famous chicken rice balls. Imagine Hainan chicken rice packed up and rolled in giant golf ball-sized morsels. Call me boring but I think I preferred the normal chicken rice. The chicken was super smooth and tender and the accompanying sticky soy and gingery chilli sauce went down a treat. I didn’t think I’d get excited about cabbage but the stir-fried cabbage here is the goods! I could’ve eaten a whole plate of it if I weren’t with other people and had to share!

The soup was very tasty if you can get past the chopped up bits of chicken feet. Boil pork bones, black beans (also called turtle beans), ginger and lots of chicken feet for hours and you have a really tasty broth. My grandmother makes a version of black bean soup but with lamb shanks, ginger and honey dates. This makes the perfect winter pick-me-up.

(Hainan chicken rice balls in close up)

Melaka is a touristy town but with a bit of heart and soul and we had a great time walking around town looking at the old Chinese shop houses with their intricate carvings and plasterwork. The hotel we stayed at, Hotel Puri is a beautiful space to relax in. It’s a heritage Nyonya house with lots of interesting nooks and crannies filled with antique artifacts, kitchen and cooking utensils.

Here is a demonstration setup of a typical old-fashioned Malay kuih-making kitchen. !

(Such interesting kuih moulds)

The hotel is so ambient and relaxing even the swallows have found their way in and made comfortable homes in one of the foyers! It’s the most magical thing to walk into this room in the late evening and have these birds fly in and out encircling the room in search of a perch stop. The concierge told us that the owner of the hotel harvests the birds’ nests for soups every now and again. Birds nest can costs up to several thousand ringgit per kilo so this is a good omen indeed! There is a huge market for birds nest we discovered in Malaysia’s east coast (post of this later down the track!).

(There must be several generations of birds in the one room - oh the noise!)

Restaurants featured are:

Anak Nyonya Restoran, 88 Jalan Tokong, Melaka (closed Wednesdays) from 10:30am - 9:30pm

Hoe Kee Hainanese Chicken Rice Ball, 4-8 Jalan Hang Jebat, Melaka

Jonker Street night markets from 6pm - 12 midnight Saturdays and Sundays.

Pass the mush, we're in hospital now

2010-12-01T20:34:00.009+10:00

Last week I had my first taste of hospital food. How did I come by hospital food? My grandmother was admitted to hospital and her condition was looking critical so I flew down to Sydney to visit her. Her lunch arrived – she didn’t have any appetite (the woman had an appetite that would shame us all in her younger years) so I ate some of it. I thought at the time, this isn’t as bad as people say it is. Then I changed my mind when I saw what she was served for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Hospital food is, at best, tolerable, for a day or two. Stretch it out three times a day, five , six, seven days in a row and you start to see a pattern – a very repetitive one. I was there for four days and was already bored with the menu. Yes, I know hospital food is not meant to be palatable but patients have to eat in order to regain their strength, surely. In my research about hospital food, I came across a couple of articles about vulnerable patients in hospitals suffering from malnutrition. Read about malnutrition in hospitals.

I didn’t think it was polite to take photographs of my grandmother’s hospital meals do I didn’t. Readers out there will have to use their imaginations. I was surprised to see the number of non-nutritious food items that is being served up in our hospitals. The next time you're visiting someone in hospital - look around you - sugary juices, syrupy fruits and spongey white bread abound. On the menu featured items like two fruits, chicken and gravy, lamb and gravy, seasonal vegetables, tuna pasta bake, mashed potato, rice pudding and apple or orange juice. What they mean by fruit is individual servings of fruit in syrup – the kind you peel off a plastic tab and dig a spoon in. Fresh fruit is an apple (not so appropriate when the patient can’t really eat and has dentures). Chicken is an anaemic rubber ball, potatoes dry, sweet potato water logged, beans leathery and tough as old boots. This is what I suspect lies in wait for most public hospital patients. Perhaps readers who have been in private hospitals have a different experience?

My grandmother gathered up her strength to screw up her face when I lifted the lid of her lunch. A plate of indeterminate meat slathered in packet gravy, surrounded by hunks of sweet potato, potato and beans. She turned away and said feebly, I can’t eat that. A Caucasian woman who was sharing my grandmother’s ward; when I asked her what she was having for lunch – she stopped chewing and stopped for several seconds then said, rather embarrassedly, I don’t know what meat this is.

You have to eat, I said, to get better. Deep down, I wouldn’t have wanted to eat that either to tell the truth. She managed about a quarter of a potato and a mouthful of sweet potato. My mother and I ended up making her some thin fish congee and some vegetarian noodles the next couple of days. Her lunches and dinners continued to arrive – they sat untouched.

Cultural diversity must be a pain to address in public health settings. We often forget that Australia is becoming so much more multicultural these days; as a result, we end up alienating a large part of the population that end up in hospitals don’t eat the Anglo-Saxon way. Yes, it’s convenient and easy to roast a hunk of meat, chuck a heap of beans and potatoes in a big pot and forget about it. I can appreciate the logistical nightmare of cooking for a niche group but some considerations for menu planning would be so much appreciated by patients. If hospitals presented better quality, better thought-out food, patients will eat more and faster, regain their strength a lot quicker and hopefully leave these dire places pronto. This youtube clip about hospital food pretty much sums it up!

While I write this, my grandmother is still in hospital, no doubt wanting to get better faster but very likely refusing another round of chicken in gravy and two fruits. Maybe Jamie Oliver should start a Ministry of Better Hospital Food for All Vulnerable Patients?

Book launching a go

2010-11-07T18:09:00.036+10:00

My little food guide celebrated its third edition just this Friday, 5th November 2010. Like all good book launches before, it was backed by a supportive crew of booksellers at Avid Reader. An interested audience came along and an interesting foodie panel discussed, well, food and coffee! The fabulous duo, Margaret Connolly (on violin)and Dorothy Williams (contralto singer) entertained us with Black Coffee and One Meatball. I had a food and travel writer (Karen Reyment also wrote the foreword to my book), baker-food blogger (Julia Tuomainen), food journalist (Natascha Mirosch), cooking school/food tour operator (Sally Lynch) and a fantastic barista (Ben Graham).

What a great window display - thanks Avid crew!

The foodie panel at work

More foodie panel.

M & D doing their thing.

In the year of writing the guide, getting caught up in the craze of MasterChef and other food-related madness - one thing always disturbed me. The fact that while a large percentage of Brisbanites are gorging on food in every way possible, a growing percentage of people are increasingly left with nothing or not enough to eat.

About 14 years ago I decided to have a meal in a soup kitchen in Sydney. It was an experiment for my writing. What I didn't expect was that the experience left me completely humbled. I walked away feeling ashamed of my excesses even though I was a uni student then surviving on using past use-by-date milk and two minute noodles. That soup kitchen meal has never left me. I was lucky to stumble on Mama Rene's charity recently. The charity is locally run by a Pastor John Dowell. They run a mobile soup kitchen and grocery distribution from a carpark in Spring Hill and have other operations down on the Gold Coast and other suburbs around Brisbane. They don't turn anybody away - individuals that need a hot meal and groceries are welcome. For my third book launch, I had a fundraiser event for Mama Rene's. Daniel and Tina are two very hardworking and generous souls from Mama Rene's who came and spoke to the audience about the work they do for the homeless. Together we raised a neat amount of funds that I hope will help them. So thank you to all who generously donated their time and money on Friday night. The money will be put to good use I am sure of it.

The queue lining up for groceries on a rainy night in a Spring Hill carpark.

Those who want to check out what Mama Rene's website can go to www.mamarenes.org

For delicious baking check out www.melangerbaking.com

For budding travel and food writers www.adayinthelifeimages.com/profilekarenreyment

Food journo's foodie adventures check out http://blogs.news.com.au/couriermail/food/

Coffee lovers drink this up http://onedropspecialtycoffee.com/

Brush up on your cooking skills? http://www.tastetrekkers.com.au/

Intrepid foodies who want a copy of my book go to www.brisbanebudgetbites.com.au

Below is a short piece I wrote all those years ago about the soup kitchen I ate in.

Meanwhile on the other side of Chinatown

It was the sign that did it. It read Free Meals – All Welcome!

The soured smells of old men with bags for hats and cans for cash hang in the air. In the dead of winter, a bare-chested man with a leather jacket sits hunched up rolling cigarettes while he waits for his four course meal. He has rings for knuckles and sunglasses for eyes. The leather man shreds bread as if feeding pigeons, scattering crumbs into his dishwater soup. He waits for the bread to suck up the hot soup, waits patiently for them to plump up into wheaten dumplings before gulping them down greedily.

Another man, more decrepit, holds two slices of bread in his left hand spoons soup slowly and meticulously into his mouth. He has a plastic bag for a bib and looking a little like a displaced cricket player, sports a smear of sunscreen on his forehead and above his eyes. His hand luggage is a swagger of plastic bags. Bags within bags. The balloon of bags rustle as they rub against his body. Huge rubber bands clump together around his shoes to keep him from losing the sole from the rest of his shoe. His hands shake.

A toothless old man with a brown hat and a brown jumper stares at the men inside and the other men stare at his brand new shoes. The toothless man leaves almost immediately after he finishes his meal. He is uncomfortable. He eyes the men as he walks out, his brand new shoes squeaking and clicking under him.

Pictures of Jesus and Mary loom overhead together with cardboard cut-outs of the Easter bunny. The volunteers all stand around in plastic aprons, strangely grim, all of them with beards. An older volunteer suggests to the leather man that perhaps he should say grace. The volunteer and the leather man both break out in laughter. Leather man is obviously a regular.

Skinless sausages with gritty gravy is on the menu. Dishwater soup with bloated vermicelli, a floret of cauliflower, a spoonful of spinach, a small serving of boiled pumpkin, a handful of mushy chips on the side also feature on the menu. The basket of soy and linseed bread is a nice surprise. It sits there on the communal table – touched by all hands. Hands that have rifled through old newspapers. Hands that have dug into rubbish bins for edible scraps the night before. The fruit salad is close to fermenting as it sits in the plastic container. The old men imagine fermenting grapes turning into wine before squashing the rotting grapes and mandarins down their throats.

A child and his mother pass by the soup kitchen and the boy yells out to his mother that there are free meals here. The mother pulls her child away and chastises him that this is no place to eat. No place for them to eat.

The old man with the two slices of bread in his hand gnaws at his bread, obviously leaving the best for last. He fastens his plastic bag bib, brings the plastic bowl to his lips and drinks every last drop, mops up sausage gravy and swallows every grape seed and savours the hot tea. This is a place where homeless men and women break bread, eat like it is their last meal. This is also a place where the arrogant are humbled.

Mooncake madness

2010-10-13T15:59:00.009+10:00

Not once did I ever think that I would make mooncakes. It’s not something that a layperson does or thinks that he or she can make. For one, they’re fiddly as hell to make. And the mid-autumn season is so short, it’s way easier to just go down to the shops to buy them. After about two decades of not eating them, here I am, suddenly obsessed by these sweet morsels from my childhood. As a child eating lotus paste mooncakes were already indulgent, if we were lucky, we’d get a double salty egg yolk bunger – now that was luxury in my time.

Having just returned from Singapore and Malaysia where the mooncake is seeing a modern revival, I was blown away by the breadth of variety of these suckers. I was hooked. The mooncakes in Asia are like pieces of mini art works – the pastry skin takes on the intricate carvings of flowers and Chinese calligraphy and the fillings infinite and cleverly combined with western ingredients. I also had to justify my recent horde of mooncake moulds – what good are they sitting in the cupboard?

I happened to buy a Malaysian food magazine, Flavours at the airport on the way back to Australia. My mooncake obsession could take hold – there was a spread on mooncakes and recipes. What luck! So today, I made my first batch of mooncake dough. I didn’t want to make both dough and filling – thought I’d take baby steps first. I’m not the best of bakers – most of my baking expeditions veer off in unexpected tangents! I used a peanut-shaped mould, a traditional calligraphy mould and a tablet shaped mould.

The peach-shaped calligraphy mould was by far the most diffcult mould to use. The dough stuck furiously to its sides and it took a bit of beating mould on bench to unmould the sticky stuff.

(golden syrup, lye water and oil mix resting)

I have used the dough on its own as biscuits although its purpose is to form a skin around fillings. The dough works quite well on its own though a bit sweet. I divided my dough and mixed half of it with a mixture of grated nutmeg and ground cinnamon for a slightly spicy flavour.

(this is the shiniest dough mix ever!)

(pre-oven specimens)

My version puffed up about double and as a result, lost most of its intricate patterns. Perhaps I put too much sodium bicarbonate in? Or maybe with a filling the dough keeps its shape better. I will make some lotus paste for the next batch and see what happens. The texture is pretty good, it's slightly chewy and spicy from nutmeg and cinnamon - not unlike a German Christmas cookie!

(post-oven specimens)

Here is Flavours basic mooncake dough recipe.

250ml golden syrup
110ml peanut oil (I substituted this with canola oil)
1tsp alkaline (lye) water
430g plain flour sifted
¼tsp sodium bicarbonate

1 egg lightly beaten for egg wash

Mix golden syrup, oil and lye water in a bowl until well combined. Cover with cling film and set aside for 1 hour.

Sift in flour and sodium bicarbonate . Mix to firm a dough – if the dough is too sticky, work in 1 to 2 tbsp flour. When the dough looks shiny and smooth, cover with cling film and rest for another hour before filling and shaping.

Baking: Preheat oven to 170°C. Place shaped mooncake biscuits on greased or greaseproof lined tray. Bake for 10 minutes. Remove and brush with egg wash. Lower heat to 160°C and bake another 10 minutes. Remove from oven when biscuits are golden brown.

Singapore Singapore!

2010-10-10T16:33:00.061+10:00

The quest for great food is always a good excuse to leave the country in exchange for new culinary experiences. A wedding is an even better excuse to leave the country. My cousin YW finally tied the knot having found his soulmate in Singapore. Many family members traveled from Malaysia and with family and friends coming from various overseas countries. The wedding was beautiful. The bride and groom looked tired but very happy. I’ve got the menu from the wedding reception to reflect what is typically on offer if you do decide on a Chinese-style reception in a big hotel.

(menu from Chinese wedding)

The streets of Singapore seem almost swept clean of debris and most eating places on the surface look sanitised and very clean. Street food in Singapore has been kept confined in ‘coffeeshops’ in specially-built buildings for this purpose. There are no longer sit-on-footpath type eating. As a result of the government’s zeal for cleanliness, Singaporean food stalls shoved into custom-built buildings have lost a part of their street appeal – the vibrancy and authenticity just isn’t there. Food isn’t overly expensive but neither is it overly cheap. A typical bowl of noodles will cost around $5. Don’t get me wrong, there is good food to be had in Singapore, just don’t expect raw, edgy street food, like you would in the rest of South-east Asia.

A good place for a cheap eats is Singapore Zam Zam Restaurant, recommended by fellow Brisbane blogger, Tunaf_ranch was a hit. The murtabaks here are pretty big and crispy perfect with a pint of frothy teh tarik.

(fat crispy parcels of goodness at Zam Zam)

A good friend of mine and Singapore resident, D brought us to a Teo Chew restaurant, Hung Kang for dinner. It was a joy to find beautifully prepared food at very reasonable prices. We started with pomegranate-shaped bags with crispy spring roll skin filled with diced chicken, crunchy chestnuts and spring onions. A thick, sweet soy sauce made a good dipping accompaniment. Stir fried kai lan (Chinese broccoli) with shiitake mushrooms and crispy fish skin was a textural sensation. The match of crunchy vegetables with silky mushrooms and crispy skin is so clever. The century egg stir fried with water chestnuts and black fungus was a highlight. The century egg loses a bit of its pungency but marries perfectly with the other ingredients. Deep fried goose was tender and very moist.

(dinner at Hung Kang)

The pork thigh braised in a complex soy broth with chestnuts was excellent eating – the meat perfectly fall apart tender with nutty chestnuts and a layer of gelatinous rendered fat.

(this braised pork dish was absolutely delicious!)

(Hashima (or frogs glands)with gingko nuts)

We finished off with snow frog glands with gingko nuts warmed in a sweet soup and oh nee (yam in lard and sugar) and cheng teng (cold clear dessert soup with longans, snow fungus, dried jujubes). It was an interesting array of textures, flavours and ingredients and acted as a good palate cleanser.

We were also lucky to visit while the mooncake festival was on. There were mooncakes everywhere we looked. Some of the streets downtown turned into mooncake alleys. Dozens of Chinese bakeries and specialist mooncake makers displayed their colourful wares in tents. Singapore has not only modernised its street food, the traditional mooncake of my childhood has also been transformed into elaborate pieces of artworks.

(this photo doesn't do the mooncake booths justice but imagine these stalls multiplied by about thirty)

Hundreds of mooncakes were on show – the traditional pastry with lotus paste with egg yolks were a minority. The east-meets west samples seemed to rule. Five star hotels have also gotten in on the action – hotels like Raffles, Shangri-La, Goodwood Park Hotel were showcasing exquisite-looking specimens.

(and these little mooncake piglets went to market...)

We said goodbye to the old-style baked pastry with lotus seed varieties and said hello to a new variety of dewy delicate snowskin mooncakes. These snowskins come in D24 durian paste, apple caramel, mango and pomelo, single malt whiskey, chocolate with rum and raisin and the piece de resistance – champagne and truffle. These exotic specimens don’t come cheap – expect to pay from $42 for four pieces. We moved around these mooncake booths trying their free samples.

(sample of local bakery, Bakerzin's snowskin mooncakes from their 2010 collection!)

I managed to find some traditional wooden mooncake moulds in Malaysia and am going to start to try and make some mooncakes. It’s all a bit sad but wooden moulds are becoming harder and harder to source – plastic is gaining momentum with cooks everywhere apparently. I am going to attempt making some mooncakes in the next couple of weeks time so stay tuned.

(mooncake moulds washed and seasoned with oil)

D also brought us to sample beef balls noodle soups at Purvis Street. It was a memorable lunch at a beef ball koay teow restaurant in Purvis Street in Singapore.

The appetisers of lor bak (spiced fragrant meat with a crispy bean curd skin) and century egg were a good combination.

(lor bak with century egg appetisers)

(beef ball noodle soup. Photo by Neil Lee)
The broth was complex and rich without being overpowering and the beef balls were very tasty. The chilli sauce with Calamansi limes gave the beef some kick too.

The Teo Chew dinner, murtabak at Zam Zam and beef ball noodles lunch were some of my more memorable eats in Singapore.

The mid autumn mooncake festival ran from 10 August to 22 September 2010.
Singapore Zam Zam Restaurant can be found at 697, 699 North Bridge Road, Singapore.
Hung Kang Teochew Restaurant can be found at 28 North Canal Road, Singapore.
7th Storey Hainan Cafe, 27 Purvis Street, Singapore.

Real Food Companion by Matthew Evans

2010-09-06T14:35:00.015+10:00

The Real Food Companion by Matthew Evans

I had the pleasure of meeting Matthew Evans at his book launch earlier this year. His talk was informative and passionate. His attitude towards food and his frankness about not having a lot of agricultural knowledge to begin with provided me with motivation for learning more. Matthew Evan’s event was sponsored by Food Connect (a great organisation committed to farming sustainability and communities). I had much respect for Evans when he was a Sydney Morning Herald food reviewer and I have even more respect for him now that he’s championing the awareness of sustainable farming and opting for simpler eating and living. For those of you not so familiar with his written work, you may be more familiar with his television show, the SBS food documentary Gourmet Farmer.

I’m a big fan of Murdoch food books in general, but this tome is really a little bit special. Not only is the book beautifully made, from the rustic jacket to the photographs and text – a lot of care and love has gone into it. Evan’s prologue is especially touching. The publication of the book coincides with the birth of his first child. The prologue turns into a kind of ‘life’ letter, which I guess, is also a form of love letter to his first born. With this, Evans introduces his family and his food aspirations to his child. He sagely advises his child to “Dine in front of the television at your own peril. Keep your self-esteem intact and your front door open to visitors. Keep the pantry full and the larder enriched. Keep the invitations going to those who seek refuge, as well as those who come to bring joy. Be generous with the ladle and cavalier with the wine. Cook, my child, for hospitality is the glue that binds humanity together.” What lovely sentiments.

(the book with its scarecrow jacket on)

Evans’s life-changing journey starts with tasting real milk, which for him, is a driver for uncovering the real, core flavours of ingredients. He is not a fan of mediocrity, he supports ethical eating and like the title of the book suggests, he is interested in real food. Evans could’ve bleated on and on about sustainable eating, farming and the feelgood factor of buying and eating organic. Yes, he espouses all of these food philosophies but he doesn’t come across as greenly pious or shouts obnoxiously from his soapbox. He makes the reader aware of these issues gently; almost reminds us that we shouldn’t neglect the soil that nourishes our vegetables and the welfare of the animals that we depend on for food.

The chapters are well laid out and categories of ingredients are explained in simple, easy-to-understand language. The beauty of the Real Food Companion is that it is a personal collection of rustic, delicious recipes combined with introductions to individual farmers and their produce, and explanations of uses for ingredients. The dairy chapter sees recipes like baked nutmeg custard, goats’ milk latte cotto and labna. The flour chapter shows off the flexibility of wheat, whether for turning leftover crusts into a bread and butter pudding or dough being kneaded into silky pappardelle. The recipes are never overcomplicated or fussy. Traditionalists will delight in the English and French comfort foods like homemade bacon baked beans and coq au vin; and the multiculturalists will appreciate the taxi driver’s lamb curry and fattoush.

(Matthew Evans's homemade bacon baked beans)

And where would a good reference/cookbook be without a workable index? The index is broken up into two separate categories: Food and Topics. The food index is user-friendly and pretty thorough although some food entries could have been more practically thought through. For a book that is part reference and part cookbook, the level of indexing is spot on. The Topics section is easy to use but some entries seem to have been overlooked and locators are not all there. Overall, Real Food Companion is a heartwarming read and provides inspiration to all of us who are vying for a change of pace in our hectic lifestyles. This book makes me want to find time to nourish and grow something wonderful from a little patch of dirt.

Breakfast at The Wolseley book review

2010-03-31T13:30:00.014+10:00

Love him or hate him, A.A. Gill certainly has a way with words. The wordsmith puts his intrepid travels and eating adventures aside and goes back to the United Kingdom, in search of breakfast. His book, Breakfast at The Wolseley is based solely, entirely on the promise of breakfast, actually, the entire book is focused on the famous English institution, The Wolseley in Picadilly, London. This art deco period building was commissioned as a showroom for Wolseley Cars in the 1920s and 30s. This opulent and grand building was used by Barclays bank until the late 1990s. Two men, Chris Corbin and Jeremy King acquired the building in 2003 and commissioned architects to restore the building to its former glory and set about turning it into an European-inspired café/restaurant. A.A. Gill goes behind the scenes at The Wolseley to experience firsthand the machinations behind what it takes to provide first-class breakfasts. This sumptuous book of beautiful photographs of building and its food is something for the coffee table. It’s the perfect time-filler for a rainy Sunday afternoon. A.A. Gill fans will love this. And for those who can’t stomach Gill’s self-indulgent reviews – this one might just be the one to ease you back into the Gill fold. Gill is restraint in this narrative and has kept his sarcastic wit to a minimum in this publication. His take on eating breakfast is poignant and at times I think requires some reflection.

Breakfast is everything. The beginning, the first thing. It is the mouthful that is the commitment to a new day, a continuing life. …Breakfast – simple, elaborate, hurried, deliberate or skipped – is an unconsidered moment of global communion. Somewhere, someone is starting breakfast and thinking, “Today will be better than yesterday.”

I like the fact he’s written about breakfast in a completely different light – it’s something that I haven’t taken into much consideration, Gill’s right: it’s something we all kind of take for granted. My breakfasts become more elaborate on weekends, I do like to eat adventurously when I’m traveling. I have no qualms about having cake and coffee or roti and curry for breakfast but I find myself eating almost the exact same breakfast on weekdays.

Breakfast is a meal apart. It isn’t like the other organized consumptions of food in which we all part. Even though it’s a fixed moment, breakfast is pre-form – a conceptual meal. It doesn’t have courses or an order; it isn’t prescriptively sweet or savoury; there is no generally accepted sense of its length or constituent parts. It’s bespoke, tailor-made to you: a private meal or habit. Breakfast is the most personal and idiosyncratic construction. It is the only meal most of us feel wholly comfortable eating on our own…

See that wasn’t so bad. None of this smug, self-serving talk – what a relief! The book is split into seven parts. History of the building and place, a short history of breakfast, the concept of the Viennoiserie complete with recipes. Gill’s even provided an eggs section, an English breakfast section,fruit and cereals and Tea, Coffee and Hot Chocolate section - all with recipes and short blurbs. Viennoiserie is the French collective term for pastries from Vienna. And what a collection of butter-enriched pastries there are in the book.

A recipe for haggis and duck eggs from the book

Gill’s managed to evoke the goings-on behind the scenes at The Wolseley with great verve and sensitivity. All the ‘invisible’ people that make breakfast possible get a look-in. Almost all nationalities under the sun can be found in the kitchen of this one place, all making European pastries and English breakfasts. We’re introduced to the tourier. I had not heard of, or knew what a tourier was until I read the book.

A tourier is a risen-pastry maker. ‘He’s not strictly a baker, or a patissier, or a confectioner; he is a tourier. …the tourier leans over his dough, folding and shaping with practised economy. Watching craftsmen craft is one of the quietest and deepest pleasures of a cack-handled life. The tourier arranges the pastry-pale, embryonic croissants on a slick baking tray and slides them into a rainforest-hot oven.

I enjoyed leafing through and reading this book, I didn’t think I’d enjoy reading about A.A. Gill’s take on the intricacies of making and serving breakfast as much I did. This book is for anyone interested in food and the social intercourse that surrounds breakfast. It’s also for those who enjoy the thing that is a perfect, crisp, flaky croissant.

Fresh croissants from the oven at The Wolseley

Bangers and Mash scream for ice cream

2010-02-22T21:17:00.014+10:00

I must say I signed up for this trial of Yoghurt Plus thinking it was literally yoghurt for dogs. I usually give my dogs Bangers and Mash a tablespoon or two of natural yoghurt several times a week. They love it. They lap up the cold stuff like we would ice cream, I imagine! I wasn’t quite so sure it was good for them though so I was very excited when I saw the Yoghurt Plus. I must say I was mistaken about Yoghurt Plus being yoghurt – it turned out to be dog kibble with lactose-free yoghurt added. Never mind my disappointment - Bangers and Mash seemed very excited when the delivery man dropped these off. Interestingly the product was developed by ex AFL player and sports personality John Crosbie Goold. He thought if probiotic bacteria is good for human digestion and general wellbeing, perhaps the same health benefits also could be harnessed in animals. After years of trials on animals in both commercial and domestic environments, Yoghurt Plus was born. The makers of this product believe that feeding our pets with this particular product helps with many health issues.

The said benefits that I am interested in trialling on Bangers and Mash are:

Reduction in stool volume and odour (poor Mash I am convinced has irritable bowel syndrome)
Healthy shiny coats
Reduction in lawn burn (this would be particularly helpful too)
increased immmunity

It will be interesting to see if there are any changes in my dogs in the next several months.

Bangers and Mash take stock

Bangers is a border collie/blue heeler/kelpie we think. He’s a rescue dog from the RSPCA.

Mash is a border collie/spaniel(?), also a rescue dog from the RSPCA.

Day One of Yoghurt Plus
Bangers: Gave usual amount of food. Several hours later Bangers threw up a huge pile of the stuff. I’m not sure if he had a reaction to the new food. Thankfully I didn’t take a photo of his spew, it was rather, how shall we say, unappetising.

Mash: Nothing came up – fine as normal.

Day Two
Bangers: Decreased the amount of food today. Seemed okay no evidence of chuckups in the garden.

Mash: Same amout of food as Bangers. Love it. Want some more mum. Mash has terrible morning breath that seems to last all day. Let's see if this stuff clears up her poodle breath.

Day Three
Bangers & Mash: Nope, all seems okay though amount is less than what I’d give them. I notice that the fat content is 12% and 26% protein - their usual food is 10% fat and usually 20% protein.

Both kids hang around in the kitchen a lot more than usual, waiting for scraps methinks.

Ducasse and his cookbook

2010-02-19T13:44:00.013+10:00

Alain Ducasse
Spoon Food and Wine review

I am a big fan of books in general but have a very soft spot for food books and cook books. A post on Twitter recently by Barbara from winos and foodies on the unusability of some celebrity chef’s (he who shall be nameless!) recipes got me looking at cookbooks with a more critical eye. Sure, we’ve come across recipes that look good on paper but fail miserably even when you follow it to the tee. I think most of us have had that experience. Some recipes are perhaps inadequately tested in the kitchen, editors may have missed a typo in the amount of ingredients needed. A whole gamut of things can go wrong when dealing with recipes and cookbooks.

I was excited when I found a book with Alain Ducasse’s recipes at the library. What was I expecting to see in a cookbook by the famous and very prolific French chef? Did I expect to see elements of haute cuisine reflected in the construction of text and photographs? Did I expect elegance and refinement reflected in the recipes? Monsieur Ducasse has many, many restaurants under his belt: his bars, restaurants and bistros litter the cities and countrysides of France, Monaco, Tokyo, America, Lebanon, Italy, England and Mauritius. Ducasse has a very impressive line up of eateries and yes, even more impressive that some of these restaurants have multiple Michelin stars. So what did I think of this cookbook?

The Spoon Food and Wine cookbook covers recipes from Ducasse’s Spoon franchise. In his introduction, he states that the book was conceived in the ‘spirit of exploration, analysis and iconoclasm.’ He continues, “Anyway, that is how this book was designed. You will see that there are no one-way streets, that you are not trapped on a ‘motorway’ of taste. It’s a case of ‘as you like it’. If you want to take a side turning, reverse, start again, no one will stop you. But, when it comes to stopping short – no way! …in this sense, the cooking of Spoon is instinctive: chew, munch, eat, drink. These ‘deconstructed’ dishes have all the adapatability of basic cooking. What I like about the ethos of Spoon is that it combines the simplest, most fundamental gesture – dipping a spoon into an earthenware bowl – with modern sophistication.’

I laughed at the motor highway metaphor for cooking styles and then I became confused over the description of the spoon being dipped into an earthenware bowl with utter modern sophisticated abandon. Wait a minute, my detection of pretension/wanker siren is going off! I know celebrities have great authority and say in a lot of things but when does an editor not edit or refine a clumsy introduction? It gets worse from here. The recipes seem relatively easy enough and aren’t overly too complicated but the problem with this book lies in its design elements. Surely you can have a well-designed book (think Murdoch Books’ plethora of beautiful and practical cookbooks) with good-looking visuals without the book looking like the contents of a dog’s breakfast.

The designer somehow has managed to turn a cookbook into a pseudo-people/fashion shoot and managed to talk the editor into agreeing to use the photos. Shots of attractive young things lounging in restaurants are interspersed throughout the book. Don’t get me wrong, the photographs in the book are beautifully and artistically shot.

What I would like to know is whether people find over-the-top design/photographic elements in a cookbook detract from the recipes and cooking techniques. I found my eyes roving across the pages, struggling to look for some semblance of ease of readability. Typographic inconsistencies rule on the page – recipe ingredients are condensed and line spacing reduced. The font used for the cooking instructions, on the other hand, is enlarged but printed ultra light with cooking steps in an extra bold red font. These red ‘steps’ punctuate the page too boldly and I found them very distracting because the actual instructions were so light therefore hard to read. Some of the choices of very busy background photographs render the ultra light font almost invisible.

By now you’re probably thinking ‘what a bloody nitpicker’ but I am after all, a professional book indexer and I tend to look at things in great detail. If you’re thinking that I can’t pick this book apart anymore, I haven’t even started on the index! Two thirds of the pages dedicated to the index are supplemented by very large photographs of Ducasse’s compotes and salsas in tumblers. What use is an index if you can’t use it or refer to it? (FYI, this link to a badly indexed book is quite hilarious)

If you think you want to look up chicken dishes – you’d look under C for chicken or P for poultry. Well, chicken is not under ‘chicken’ or ‘poultry’ surprise, surprise. It’s under ‘seared chicken fillets’. Seafood is nowhere to be found, instead you’ll find it also under ‘seared red mullet, etc’ Desserts? Ice creams? Try ‘The big meringue’.

Tomatoes? Forget it if you think it’s under ‘vegetables’ or ‘tomatoes’ – it’s under ‘stuffed tomatoes and potato straws’. I could go on and on but I won’t bore you. If there was ever a nomination for a bad index: this is it. This thoroughly inadequate index, is after all, a fitting end to a very superficial fashionable book about the way food should look and the kinds of people who aspire to eat at the Spoon establishment. There is no warmth or generosity depicted in any of the pictures – the images of food is gorgeous (yes) but clinical and exacting, devoid of any emotion or spontaneity. This book leaves me stone cold and I am glad I didn’t invest money indulging in something so inaccessible and unapproachable.

A hop, skip and a jump to Grasshopper Kitchen

2010-02-09T14:10:00.014+10:00

Grasshopper Kitchen is injecting much life into the retail strip on Vernon Terrace. The interior space utilises the building’s history as a wool store with its part distressed walls, made it part quirky with hessian bag lamp coverings and thrown in a bit of chic with a sleek fitout. This fusion of many design elements extend into the East-meets-West menu.

Grasshopper was the venue for the second Brisbane’s food bloggers’ dinner organised by Gastronomy Gal and Melanger Baking, and what an enjoyable night it was. Todd Rumble, proprietor of the wine bar, Claret House played host and gave an informative and entertaining wine commentary on the night. Six interesting wines were matched with six courses. Australian wines from the Tamar Valley, Margaret River and Orange were featured, Argentinian and French made the rest of the tasting. The six courses were a tasting menu for their autumn set so we all got a taste preview.

Japanese scallop with duck ma hor, prosciutto with daikon and wasabi puree

Dishes were presented delicately and beautifully – highlights being the slow braised beef cheek in a Vietnamese-style stock with a chilli polenta cake and baby vegetables. The cheek was rich and gelatinous, its flesh melting away from our forks. The scallops presented with sliver of prosciutto and a version of a Thai-style duck ma hor (or also known as galloping horse) was another highlight. The scallop was plump and sweet contrasting nicely with the salty prosciutto; the minced duck with peanuts was spicy and sweet at the same time with I think, minced pineapple on top. The daikon and wasabi puree tasted deceptively like cauliflower – it was very good with a bit of kick.

Beef cheek slow braised for six hours in Vietnamese-style aromatic stock with coriander chilli polenta cake and baby turnip & carrot

Having had a degustation menu here, it will be interesting to see what their normal a la carte menu is like. We didn’t just indulgently enjoy ourselves, the proceeds of our dinner went to Sydney’s Red Lantern restaurateur, Luke Nguyen and Suzanna Boyd’s Little Lantern Foundation, a non profit project for disadvantaged and underprivileged Vietnamese. Grasshopper’s talented head chef Minh Le shares a very similar refugee story to Luke Nguyen, arriving in Australia in 1979. The people who call for an end to accepting boat people should remember that refugees and migrants who come to Australia deserve a chance. Imagine an Australia without Cheong Liew, Frank Camorra, Tetsuya Wakuda, Kylie Kwong, Luke Nguyen, Janni Kyritsis, or George Calombaris (heaven forbid!). What a poor culinary abyss we’d be without them.

Claret House, by the way, is conveniently located next door to Grasshopper if you decide you want to amble along and have a taste of some niche wines.

Buffalo Bill rides again

2010-01-17T21:42:00.010+10:00

So the birthday dinner had to wait, so what? Buffalo Club would open a week later than I had wanted, and yes, I realise that chefs and restaurateurs have to have a break sometime too, just like the rest of us.

The crew at Buffalo were booked out upon reopening in 2010 so we were put on a waiting list. We didn’t have to wait too long, we were promptly told that somebody had cancelled and we could take their place. We couldn’t wait to eat.

The dining room is understated, dark and slightly broody. Juxtapose that sombre, almost monastic atmosphere with the floor-to-ceiling window showcase at the end of the room; and what you have is a window into another world – a little bit of the craziness of the Valley snakes its way into the atmosphere of the space.

Ryan Squires has won many acclaim for his innovative food. The latest gong is for‘Best New Talent’ in the Australian Gourmet Traveller food awards. It’s easy to be caught up in all the media hype and glam, to succumb to food critics’ praises and idiosyncracies.

The night we went we were told that there was only one menu and everyone was having the same thing. 10 courses with petit fours for $120. I wondered later about the poor vegetarians. Most establishments these days have a very good degustation menu for vegetarians and most deal well with diners with allergies. I’m glad I don’t fall into the vegetarian camp for I wouldn’t have been able to eat anything – except perhaps one palate cleanser and the dessert courses.

I won’t launch into a blow-by-blow account of what we ate in succession but will point out the highlights and lowlights of the night. The Pinkie reef fish sourced from Southport was delicious – the flesh was pink and firm, the flavour of the fish was subtle and sweet. Buffalo yoghurt, paw paw, apricot, date puree and a curious addition, Madras curry flavoured malto and pine nuts.

The ‘Calotte’was the highlight of the night: a cube of grade 12 Wagyu beef with pea and horseradish puree, mushroom and truffle puree, dried garlic slivers, basil, puffed wild rice and red onion dust. The beef had been cooked sous vide in a water bath and then grilled. The double-cooked cube was extremely tender and the fat marbling in the meat worked well, creating a wonderful mouthfeel and flavour. It was so good I wish I had more than a few mouthfuls at this stage!

An interesting dish was the Iranian Osietra caviar with a selection of heirloom tomatoes with smoked duck fat in malto form with raisins and tiny pillow of pastry. The white powder that is duck fat melts in your mouth to create a pretty great taste sensation with the caviar. Squire’s big on maltodextrin powders to create mouthfeel and flavour sensations. Spain magic must still flow in Squire's blood for a bit of Spain creeps into the menu here – the Spanish touch is realised through the extensive use of Manchego cheese in various guises – it’s used as garnishing, stuffing and starter.

Some of the lowlights were the ‘Crevette’ – in this case, mine was with baby octopus (I am allergic to prawns) with honey gel, perilla and black sesame paste, avoado puree and eggplant puree. The octopus although tender was completely overpowered by the very salty and overpowering black sesame paste. I tried my best to sort out the flavours in the paste but for the life of me, couldn’t discern the perilla or the black sesame. All I could taste was overpowering sticky soy. It killed all other accompanying flavours and in the end, I left most of the sauce and ate the rest. The honey was overly sweet and the avocado was bland. The eggplant puree was the star – it was naturally smoky and sweet capturing the essence of the fruit.

The other course that I wasn’t so sure worked was the foie gras, marshmallow, limoncello jelly and tamari-coated almonds. A very thin sliver of foie gras mousse was completely overpowered by the uber sweet marshmallow pudding, the tamari almonds packed a too-salty punch and the limoncello jelly added to the confusion with its sweet/tangy and sour notes. I’m not sure the foie gras needed all the confused embellishments – which was a shame because not did I once get the taste of liver coming through.

What is very clear is that Buffalo Club’s chefs excel in their clever techniques and manipulation of food ingredients and have no doubt, excellent plating-up skills as the dishes are like little works of art. What I felt was lacking is this: ingredients that are fresh and obvious star ingredients in a dish are often compromised by awfully complicated and confused companion gels, foams and purees. These overpowering and sometimes conflicting flavours completely take away from the dish, not complement them. What is also lacking is the professionalism and friendliness of its staff. For an establishment of this calibre, it was disappointing to see staff rushed and abrupt. Instead of providing the highest quality of service, waiters were spilling water on tables, not bothering to clean up after the spill and generally the mood was one of disinterest. In comparable establishments like The Press Club and Vue de Monde, service is noticeably more professional, welcoming and friendly. This is perhaps a little stumble on Buffalo’s part, I feel the potential for a complete package of excellent service and innovative food should be something good restaurants should strive for. It’s got the goods on food and with a little more interest from staff, it’d be an experience worth repeating.

Vapiano Si Si

2009-12-29T15:43:00.007+10:00

European Italian pasta/pizza bar Vapiano has officially opened its doors in Brisbane’s revamped Albert Lane. Australia is probably as far flung a venue as it can get, the chain originates from Hamburg. Germany. Its concept stores are found across Europe, the USA and in Mexico, The United Arab Emirates and Korea. Will Cooke, local director of Vapiano is a courageous man with much confidence in Brisbane. Why courageous? Because he’s chosen Brisbane over Sydney to open the first Vapiano franchise. Red Agency’s Marissa Tree extended an invite to me a couple of weeks ago and I was keen to see what Vapiano has in store for Brisbane. It’s set up right at the end of the Albert Lane development – it’s big, bold and spacious. If you thought Melbourne alleyway, you’d be right; but this space is far more spacious than initially meets the eye. There are two levels of beech-coloured wood fitouts, smart and funky seats and nooks for casual lounging and bar hopping. There is a bar on each level with a choice of communal and individual tables for dining. The space doesn’t feel too contrived and the use of natural elements like the twig ball of lights, marble condiment holders and the fact there is a lot of natural light streaming into the space makes this a very pleasant place to eat and linger in. The décor is restrained and it’s nice that an olive tree sits, rather naturally in the middle of the room on the first level.

The terracotta pots of sweet basil and rosemary on each table make this a very homely and casual experience. Diners are encouraged to pick from the herb pots to add to their meals. There is chilli oil, balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper on all tables so it’s very DIY. I think I’d like to see marjoram, Italian parsley and thyme being added to the family of herbs. The coolest part of the space for me, is the nursery of herbs in the elevated section of the first level – it feels a bit like a greenhouse and provides jaded city shoppers a fresh alternative to a walk in the Botanic Gardens.

You may be struck by the amount of people working behind the counters (I was!)– all staff members were going gung-ho at the same time – busy flipping pizza bases, running into each other, cooking pasta and making salads. There were the obvious first day jitters but the staff seem to have relaxed into their new roles on second visit.

The chip card system takes a little getting used to but if it works everywhere else around the world, it will work here too. Vapiano’s helpful staff are more than happy to explain how the system works. Order at either the pasta/pizza counters and then swipe your card –pay at the end with minimal fuss of splitting bills, etc. Vapiano may wear the fast food concept badge but Will says that the aim is to use locally-sourced ingredients. Cheeses come from far north Queensland, olive oils sourced from the South Burnett region and other produce from the South East corner. The philosophy behind the brand is admirable and let’s hope they keep it that way. Pastas and pizzas range from $13 to $19, with salads $7 and $13. Order your dish and the food is cooked before you.

Drink prices are kept reasonably low as well. Vapiano fills a bit of a gap in the market in Brisbane’s fast food scene – it provides accessible pricing for good quality food. It’s trading hours are also an attractive feature – it’s open 11am–11pm seven days a week. No longer will you have to grab a greasy burger or resort to starvation the next time you’re stuck in the city at night after a gig. The coffees are decently priced and are consistently made too, which is always a bonus in the heart of Queen Street.

Regional Chinese Cooking by Deh-Ta Hsiung

2009-12-08T20:26:00.011+10:00

Regional Chinese Cooking: the art and practice of the world’s most diverse cuisine
By Deh-Ta Hsiung

Old cookbooks provide such useful social and cultural insights into how and what people ate in a certain period in time. Regional Chinese Cooking is no exception: it’s not entirely that old, printed in 1979 but the pictures, commentary and ingredients used is fascinating and reading through it tells us how much China has changed. The author, Deh-Ta Hsiung is a self-taught cook, food consultant and ex film assistant director, born in Beijing, living in London for the last 50 years. He boasts a classical Chinese upbringing, his ancestors include a host of scholars and gourmets. His travels around China is well documented in his book, Regional Chinese Cooking.

The photographs capture the 70s where everyday people still wore the blue Mao uniforms, and the People’s Liberation Army’s green military-style uniforms. The photos speak of a time when agriculture and subsistence farming was practiced widely and of great importance to the Chinese population. Take photos now and China is a very different place, the skies are polluted in the big cities, motorbikes and cars are now overtaking bicycles, and subsistence farming is well, pretty much being phased out. Nevertheless the photographs and commentary provide an interesting glimpse into Chinese psyche 30 years ago.

The book is divided into the basics of Chinese cookery with essentials like common utensils, cooking techniques and ingredients. Cooking styles are broken into Peking or Northern school, Shanghai or Eastern school, Sichuan or Western school and Canton or Southern school. The book is by no means an exhaustive treaty on all the regional dishes available but it does provide a good cross section of food – a lot of which we don’t ever see in restaurants in Australia, let alone Brisbane.

There are even recipes from the Imperial kitchens of the Forbidden City. Thousand-layer cake (okay, only 81 layers!) for special occasions complete with lard and walnuts. Sharks’ fin soup also features – no traditional Chinese person worth their salt would consider having a grand banquet, or any kind of celebratory banquet without this status-symbol dish. We all know how wasteful and environmentally unfriendly this little piece of fin is but try convincing the sharks’ fin die-hards that this practice must be stopped.

Some dishes border on obsessive about the intricacies of colour and contrasting textures. ‘Mixed Three Whites’ is curiously indexed under ‘Vegetables’ when its major ingredient is chicken breast. I digress. The three whites here are: cooked chicken breast meat, canned (!) white asparagus and white cabbage heart. The three major ingredients are kept as white as possible with the addition of milk and cornflour. The obsession with white continues throughout the book. Another all white dish is the ‘Three Whites Assembly’ again complete with canned white asparagus, abalone and winter bamboo tips. And no, we haven’t accidentally ventured onto Krzysztof Kieslowski’s set of the Three Colours:White series.

The Chinese appreciate beautiful and poetic-sounding names for dishes – crystal sugar pork, plum blossom and snow competing for spring (a dessert dish of apples, bananas and milk), dragon and phoenix legs, bright moon and red pine chicken, three fairies in their own juice (poussin, duckling and pork in case you’re wondering) and perhaps, not the most flattering – ma pa tofu or its literal translation, ‘pock-marked woman bean curd’. Delicious though! Continuing on from the poetic dish names, Cheong Liew must have been inspired by the ‘stewed four treasures’ as inspiration for his upmarket version in ‘four dances of the sea’. Hsiung’s version is a much simpler but still complex stew of rehydrated fish lips, abalone, bamboo shoots, broccoli, rice wine vinegar and Chinese aromats.

The photo above is of the Stewed Four Treasures dish.

Kidneys feature highly on Hisung’s cooking radar; about four in total dedicated to the star ingredient, pork kidneys. Other offal are co-stars in his concoctions. How often do you see shredded kidney in wine sauce, five-fragrant kidney slices, stir-fried kidney flowers and hot and sour kidneys in your local Chinese takeaway?

You’ll discover in reading this book that monosodium glutamate reigned supreme in the 1970s. Judging by the recipes, it was used liberally in the restaurant industry. You probably won’t find any Chinese cookbooks now urging you to add a teaspoon of the white powder. I remember my grandmother using the msg brand of Ajinomoto liberally in my childhood – no bloody wonder the food tasted so good!

Chinese restaurants that pour commercial sweet and sour gloop all over chicken, pork and fish should be ashamed of themselves. They really give Chinese food a bad name. Here, in Hsiung’s book – you’ll find recipes for sweet and sour sauce. Wait for it – it’s not all red food colouring, chemicals and artificial thickeners. Authentic sweet and sour has a balance of sweet, sour and salty. Basic sweet and sour sauce is a combination of wine vinegar, sugar, soy sauce, rice wine and cornstarch with other modifications, or additions, depending on your choice of meat, etc. There really is no excuse for not making your own, especially if you’re a restaurateur with some shred of culinary dignity.

Last but not least, Hsiung gives helpful hints to the tea novice – how to pick what teas and the art of drinking and brewing tea leaves. And there’s no better time to drink copious amounts of tea when you’re diving into steamers full of dim sum.

This book is really interesting even if you don’t make anything from it – it provides a brilliant culinary time capsule on what was acceptable 30 years ago and how some of those ingredients are almost taboo now, i.e. the use of msg and sharks’ fin. The author’s done a fine job of knowing which popular dishes to showcase; juxtapositioning crowd favourites with more obscure dishes you don’t ever see in restaurants. It gives us a glimpse into how diverse and varied Chinese cuisine really is, and to start to eat like the Chinese, we’ve got to somehow demand for better and more interesting dishes from our Chinese restaurants.

getting over baking phobia with bananas

2009-12-04T17:09:00.006+10:00

Baking phobia aside, I am turning over a new leaf by Christmas 2009. I have been compelled to bake recently. I’ve baked two cakes in a week! Perhaps I was bored and perhaps I need to fill in time while I procrastinated by not wanting to finish my index projects. I mean what on earth was I going to do with my very black, almost liquefied bananas fermenting in the fruit bowl? What does a non-baker do when starting to bake? Why, we look up the most easy recipes to work with! It’s surprising to me how many cookbooks don’t have basic recipes for things like banana cake. I finally found one online – it looked so simple and no-fuss, I almost didn’t copy down the recipe. Those who know me will know I didn’t follow it 100%.

I tweaked the recipe here and there and the result is I have to say, pretty smashingly delicious! This banana cake recipe is for those who have no time but want to bake and see results within an hour; and useful to those who have festering blackening bananas abuzz with fruit flies in the fruit basket. Apologies to the person who came up with this recipe online, I cannot for the life of me find the site where I found the recipe. This is by far one of the easiest cakes I’ve ever made, it was moist and very tasty.

Here is original banana cake recipe:

125g butter
¾ c sugar
1 tsp vanilla essence
1 egg
2 ripe bananas
1½ c self raising flour
¼ c milk

Melt butter, sugar and vanilla together.
Add mashed bananas to the mixture until well blended
Add eggs and mix well.
Stir in flour, add milk and mix lightly.

Bake in 170c oven for around 40 mins.

Meemuncher tweaked version of banana cake:

125g butter
¾ c sugar (a 2/3 mix of caster sugar & rest brown sugar)
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 egg
3 ripe bananas (for extra flavour and moistness)
1½ c self raising flour (add another handful of flour to the1½ c as there is slightly more banana now)
very small pinch of baking powder
¼ milk
grating of nutmeg (to taste)
a dash of ground cinnamon
handful of pecan or walnuts to sit on top of cake

Melt butter, sugar and vanilla extract together until all melted through.
Mash bananas, add grated nutmeg and cinnamon, throw into melted butter mixture.
Add egg and mix well.
Stir in flour and lightly mix.
Add milk and incorporate thoroughly.
Delicately place nuts on top of cake batter.
Bake in 170c oven for around 40–45 mins in 20cm tin.

Verdict: pretty damn delicious for something that almost takes no effort.The nutmeg and cinnamon give this cake a bit of the oomph factor I think it needed.

I was so chuffed I thought I'd post some photos of my cake, minus a big slice!

Traditional Torres Strait Island Cooking - Ron Edwards

2009-11-17T12:34:00.015+10:00

Traditional Torres Strait Islander Cookbook: favourite recipes from the Islands
Collected and compiled by Ron Edwards

The prolific bushie/folksinger/publisher/bushcraft collector/writer/illustrator Ron Edwards died in 2008. He left the rest of us a rich and lasting legacy of the culture of indigenous peoples up north Queensland and beyond to the islands of the Torres Straits. His publishing company Rams Skull Press published approximately 350 books on bushcraft, leatherwork, whipmaking, bush ballads, songs from indigenous tribes and the odd cookery book. Traditional Torres Strait Island Cooking is a collection of favourite recipes from the Straits. Edwards collected the material back in the 1960s but the collection was only published in 1988. Let’s not underestimate the curiousity in island cooking, with 3 editions under its belt it’s testament of the public’s growing interest in indigenous methods of cooking.

The book is apparently being used by younger generations of Islanders trying to reconnect with their ancestry by cooking traditional fare. The cooking of the Torres Straits is an interesting and diverse mix of culinary input from the Chinese, Indonesians and Japanese. This intermix of ingredients and techniques highlight the multicultural diversity of this little known region.

Islanders also cook using the ‘kup maori’ method: cooking over hot stones, yes, just like the hangis the Maoris of New Zealand love so much! Coconuts feature heavily in Islander cuisine as it will come as no surprise. Many dishes called ‘sabee’ are meat cuts or cassava and vegetables stewed in coconut milk. Taro and taro leaves and stems are another favourite of the Islanders – these delicious tubers take on another dimension when braised for hours in rich coconut mik.

The Islander love their fish and they have a version of the ceviche called numus. Sabee numus (raw fish) is any close, textured raw fish soaked in lime juice and coconut milk. Numus is raw fish steeped in a concoction of onion, garlic, baking soda and vinegar. There is a whole chapter dedicated to the beloved green turtle – a favourite with many traditional Islander and Aboriginal groups. I have partaken in a little green turtle stew, a Maori Islander friend flew all the way back from Weipa once with a tub of the stuff for me to try. It was an interesting texture, the gravy was slightly grainy – the meat tasted a little like pork but stronger flavoured, and I kept thinking there was a distinct aquatic quality to the meat somehow. My friend says that turtle blood is bright green!

I remember sucking on rubbery turtle eggs as a child. My grandmother brought them home from the wet markets one day and I remember squishing the rubbery egg sacs to get its contents out. I don’t remember the taste of them but memories of them being like flattened ping pong balls when we finished with them come to mind.

The book is broken up into an introduction of traditional cooking utensils; use of coconuts; meat; chicken; seafood; turtles; sambals; fruit; rice and dampers and sweet and savoury fruit salads.

There is a whole chapter dedicated to the beloved green turtle – a favourite with many traditional Islander and Aboriginal groups. I have partaken in a little green turtle stew, a Maori Islander friend flew all the way back from Weipa once with a tub of the stuff for me to try. It was an interesting texture, the gravy was slightly grainy – the meat tasted a little like pork but stronger flavoured, and I kept thinking there was a distinct aquatic quality to the meat somehow. My friend says that turtle blood is bright green! There are 8 recipes in the book for turtle. Turtle soup sounds interesting if anybody is up to making it, here is the recipe:

Turtle Soup

Turtle tripe, diced
1/2 kg turtle fat, diced
1kg turtle meat, diced
some small pieces of turtle liver, diced
set of turtle lungs, diced
6 turtle eggs
1 bunch lemongrass or 2 knobs of crushed ginger
¼ litre turtle blood
salt to taste
water

Place all ingredients except the blood in a pan, cove with water and simmer for one hour.
Thin blood with half cup of water, add this to the pan and simmer for another hour. Discard the lemongrass before serving.

There’s curried turtle flippers, and turtle sausages and scrambled turtle eggs too. I remember sucking on rubbery turtle eggs as a child. My grandmother brought them home from the wet markets one day and I remember squishing the rubbery egg sacs to get its contents out. I don’t remember the taste of them but memories of them being like flattened ping pong balls when we finished with them come to mind.

This recipe caught my eye:

Roast banana and turtle oil

12 half ripe bananas (plantains)
1 cup turtle oil

Place the half ripe bananas on hot coals until the skins are charred. Remove the skins by scrapping. Place the bananas in a dish and mash them. Stir in the turtle oil and serve.

Turtle oil is obtained by skimming it off when the turtle is being cooked in the shell and keeping it until needed.

This is an extremely rich dish and not to everyone’s taste.

Having set down some sensationalist-type recipes to tantalise the cogs of your culinary imagination, rest assured, there are some more modest recipes that you can use at home. This is a recommended read for anybody with an anthropological interest in indigenous peoples’ foods.

Below is a turtle flipper spatula given to me by my dear friend Muriwai, her family's eating memories are rich and steeped in a mix of traditional and contemporary dishes.

Halfway to non-discrimination Cantonese

2009-11-12T17:47:00.003+10:00

In a previous post I complained about being discriminated against in Chinese restaurants. I worked up a tirade against Cantonese restaurants giving only Chinese customers free house soup and dessert. Well last night, I found a place that doesn’t discriminate against Asian women with non-Asian men, nor Asian men with non-Asian women. What a joy to be treated like everyone else! It was almost too good to be true, for later, I noticed the ‘anglo’ couple who started their entrees off with the ubiquitous spring rolls got no soup – I wasn’t there long enough to see if they got any dessert, but I’m guessing not. Perhaps some restaurants have a rule of withholding soup to people who order stereotypically Westernised Chinese dishes? I can’t work it out! Still it was a triumph for me to be able to partake in what should be my cultural right to a free house soup and sweet treats.

This Cantonese eatery in Sunnybank Hills gave us a very generous serving of house soup of pork bones, wolfberries and carrot. The rice arrived in an insulated wooden bucket I kid you not. The salt and pepper quail came halved on a bed of deep-fried mung bean vermicelli studded with deep fried eschallots, spring onions and chilli. The birds were nicely seasoned, the skin was achingly crisp, including the bones, the flesh was moist and retained its juices.

Mains included broccoli braised with 5 kinds of fungi and bamboo pith: the broccoli was fresh and still crisp, the bamboo pith an interesting contrast to the slippery shiitake mushrooms. The ma po tofu (this version had hand-minced pork, preserved vegetables, garlic, silken tofu and a spicy gravy). The dishes were well-balanced in flavour and not over-oily.

I waited nervously to see if bowls of dessert soup would be brought out to us. The boss man presented us with bowls of redbean soup with a taste wallop redolent with dried citrus peel; and to top things off, a mound of wobbly (very good) mango pudding made its way into our stomachs. I slept soundly that night. As for that ‘anglo’ couple I sure hope they got some free pudding.

As is my aversion to cameras in public places, no photos were taken, only words regurgitated.

To Die For: 100 food experiences to have before you die

2009-11-11T09:46:00.014+10:00

Okay, the man’s had about 30 years worth of food critiquing, interviewing for the Herald Sun and no doubt, much cooking and tinkling about in the kitchen in his own private time. So who better to write a book about the essential food items to try before you kick the milk bucket, so to speak. Not having read a lot of Downes’s reviews in the past, I got the feeling after I finished the book that this was a man with considerable wit, a loosely hanging acerbic tongue – not afraid to call a spade a spade; generous with his gastronomic knowledge and by the sounds of things, a mean jam maker and cook.

I also learnt that Downes was banned from eating at Jamie Oliver’s Fifteen restaurant, and from 8 other restaurants, back in 2006. Perhaps they were all pooing in their black and white chequered pants that he’d give them an unbalanced review?

The book is broken up into four distinct sections: Eating Out, Eating In, Worth the Effort and Perfect 10s. Self explanatory really. So want to know what Downes rates as his number one food experience? Downes is clearly a fan of Cheong Liew; the father of the famed ‘four dances of the sea’ signature creation. The ‘four dances of the sea’ comes in at 1 and 34 being Liew’s sea cucumber and sharks’ lips braised in carrot oil.
Those of you who read the Australian in July 2009 will remember John Lethlean’s scathing review of the Liew’s The Grange. I wonder what Downes thought of the review?

The disparity behind these two reviews four years apart can’t get any more disparate. Downes relives the joy of eating this dish:
“…four small islands of seafood on a bare white plate. They were arranged at the points of the compass, and eaten in the order in which I’ve listed them, which meant you ascended in strength of flavour. Each mouthful had meaning.’

Lethlean on the other hand, found no meaning or narrative behind the four dances: “There’s a story to the dish but it’s not told here and, without it, they are merely four seafood elements on a plate with no connection: cherry vinegar-pickled fish with avocado; squid ink noodle with raw calamari (a textural gem); grilled octopus with confit eggplant and harshly chillied aioli; and a prawn with yellow curry sauce heavy on peanut and kaffir, sitting on a glutinous rice patty. It is not the epiphany I’d hoped for. Nowhere near.” Oh dear.

I guess it’s important to note that years have elapsed since the writing of these two reviews, new concepts become old and experimental techniques that were once lauded are now commonplace in fine dining establishments.

Downes also weaves in a couple of his own political feelings on issues like political refugees and migration in Australia. Remember, he was writing in the era of John Howard and the Tampa fiasco was still fresh in the minds of many emphatic Australians. He writes of the migrant Cheong Liew and his impact on the Australian culinary landscape; and ends the article with this little political jibe/plea. “Especially politicians, who need to be continually reminded that two of Australia’s best chefs were refugees. And that our national dish is not pie ‘n’ sauce or steak and chips. We don’t need to cringe. We lead the world, but our leaders neither know nor care.”

Political seriousness aside, Downes does have a playful side to him, much of the reviews are witty and many will find his quirky touches a pleasurable read. You see Downes has a bit of a thing for wee. Yes, we’re talking piss. Steady on because it’s not that sort of pissing you’re thinking of. Fruit bat stew comes in at number 9 on his list of must eats.

“Bats hang upside-down most of the day and their toilet habits are, to say the least, lazy. I suppose it depends on the age of the bat, but, after a while, they inevitably begin to self-marinate. A light urinal whiff gets cooked into any stew made from them, matching, of course, the kind of delight Mr Leopold Bloom used to take in his breakfast kidney. (Joyce tells us in Ulysses that Mr Bloom loved ‘stuffed roast heart’ and ‘fried hencod’s roes’. But he especially delighted in his grilled breakfast kidneys of mutton, which gave to his palate, as Joyce put it, a ‘fine tang of faintly scented urine’.) Downes love of wee is strangely referenced in the number 12 must eat item: andouillette sausages at Chartier, France. Bear with me. He writes nostalgically: “Some of us – I was one – who fell in love early with the whiff of urine in food. Perhaps we were bed-wetters.”

The Eating Out chapters are no doubt the most entertaining read. The Eat In section may infuriate those who relish in exact measurements and quantities, cooking times and heat. Downes’s recipes are slapdash, happy-go-lucky, a pinch of this-n-that, a handful of salt, a glug of wine, prepare a hot oven, cook until you think it’s cooked type concoctions. I cook that way and I respond to that kind of instruction but others will probably want to throttle him over the sink for it. His selections are a combination of high-brow and comfort foods – with a tinge of cheekiness added for good measure. Love or hate his reviews, it's worth having a flick through. This is the sort of book you take on a plane en-route somewhere special (preferably with good food), or take with you to bed, tucked up, snug under the doona covers with a hot mug of cocoa, or a tumbler of gin.

This book won the 2005 Gourmand World Cookbook Award for Best Food Literature Book and I can kind of see why.

Something's rotten with the state of some of our Chinese restaurants

2009-11-04T18:28:00.003+10:00

There’s something fundamentally rotten with the state of some Cantonese restaurants. Traditionally, a good Cantonese restaurant serves complimentary ‘house soup’ to its customers. House soup is usually a clear broth made with pork or chicken bones, with fresh vegetables or preserved mustards or radish tops, it can come in form of carrot, corn and pork soup, lotus root soup, watercress soup or preserved radish soup. These soups are usually nourishing and warming and act as a nice prelude to the meal ahead. Customers have their rice and mains and then finish off with a house dessert and fruit slices. The Chinese aren’t big on rich, sugary desserts or heavy cakes; more often than not, the house dessert will come in the form of agar and coconut jellies, simple mango or sago puddings, sweet dessert soups like red bean or mung bean soup. These simple, home-made desserts are a nice way to finish a meal. The generosity of these little food gifts is what make a diner’s experience authentic and uplifting.

What I mean by rotten earlier on is the discrimination dished out to customers who come through the doors of some Chinese restaurants. The average Caucasian or non-Chinese person may or may not have noticed but soup that is given to Chinese diners by default but may not given to anybody else. Chinese families or Chinese couples usually qualify for this free soup. If you’re an Asian female dining with a non-Chinese male, or Asian male dining with a non-Chinese female – good luck with the free soup, or dessert. Over the many years of dining out with non-Chinese friends, I have definitely noticed this disturbing trend. Things have not changed and it doesn’t seem to matter what city you’re in – the less discriminating (better places) will serve non-Chinese diners house soup and desserts – the discriminating only serve Chinese diners, or people-in-the-know. The excuse most likely heard is that free house soup and dessert soups will not be appreciated by others, therefore these dishes will be wasted. I want to know who in their right minds, is going to turn down free soup and dessert. Good, knowledgeable restaurateurs should encourage adventurousness in their customers to go beyond the sweet and sour pork and fried rice combinations. I have now eaten in many Cantonese restaurants in various states and have noticed that I am discriminated against if I dine with a Caucasian companion, or with a group of Caucasians. Sometimes, if I am cheeky I actually ask for the free house soup – usually they make a bit of noise and grudgingly give us a tureen. If I’m brave enough I will also ask for the house dessert too. The point of the matter is that if I turned up to dinner with my family – we would be given these dishes by default. Just because I turn up with a non-Chinese companion shouldn’t mean I miss out on these things.

Race is usually never an issue but I must apologise for referring to diners so blatantly as either Caucasian and non-Chinese. My dining experiences in Chinese eateries of late, have really shown up this racial divide. My Caucasian dining companion and I were dining out at a suburban Cantonese restaurant not so long ago. What caught my attention was a table of middle aged Caucasians next to us, they obviously ordered the banquet meal. First course was sweet corn and chicken soup, second a platter of deep-fried spring rolls, dim sims and other bought-in things with prawn crackers. The deep fried bonanza made way for the sang choi bow, fried rice, sweet and sour pork, sizzling beef and black bean and a seafood combination. I don’t think these diners had encountered a sang choi bow before. The two couples scooped all the filling out of the sang choi bow and left the lettuce cups. I felt so sorry for them for the crispy lettuce cups are an integral part of the sang choi bow experience – the lettuce provides necessary textural contrast to the meal. A sang choi bow is not a sang choi bow without its lettuce cups. Should I have said anything? Should I have gone over and instructed them how to eat the things? I was tempted but thought they might think me rude for observing them so closely. What if that was not the first time they’d had a sang choi bow? Had they always eaten it like that? My point is the waitresses or restaurateur should have pointed this out to them while they were eating. I think the waitress might have said something (I can’t be sure) when she collected the plates but it was too late, the lettuce cups had been emptied of their contents. The equivalent of this, to me, is like ordering a hamburger, eating the patty and throwing out the bun and its accompaniments.

I am a fan of Chinese cuisine but I fear the pandering to what a Western audience might want is actually dumbing down the beauty, authenticity and variety of the cuisine. I have known people who have been unfamiliar with Cantonese/Chinese cuisine say they don’t like the cuisine because it’s too sweet, or unhealthy or too oily. I take them to an authentic Cantonese/Sichuanese/Hunanese place and order typical dishes for them –a lot of the time, they’re blown away by the flavours of the ingredients and the variety of cooking styles. Slowly but surely, the eating public is going to discover other more authentic eateries who provide these bonuses. Those good-value eateries that provide an authentic experience and don’t discriminate with these little free goodies will triumph in the end. Those contemptuous eateries that rely on serving the sweet and sour varieties and the ubiquitous Mongolian meat dishes who think their customers don’t know any better, will one day wonder where all their custom went. And yes, my dining companion and I, an Indian couple and all the other Caucasian groups may have missed out on house soup and mango pudding that night (we got dried out bits of cut oranges instead) for dessert, but there will be other places that will serve us the right way, and we will eventually find places that don’t discriminate people for not being Chinese.

Dunlop - Queen of Sichuanese

2009-11-04T16:50:00.003+10:00

Fuchsia Dunlop may be an Englishwoman but her culinary deftness definitely has a very Chinese flavour. Fuchsia Dunlop is the Sichuanese Queen of Cookery. She is a fluent Mandarin speaker and spent years in Chengdu studying Sichuanese cooking at Sichuan Institute of Higher Cuisine. Her ‘Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook: Recipes from Hunan Province’ is an excellent resource for anybody interested in regional Chinese cookery. The book is mostly recipes from the Hunan region, part social and travelogue. Her unpretentious narrative about the people she meets and the region is refreshing and inspiring. She doesn’t name drop, she doesn’t mention friends in high places – the people she associates with are down-to-earth village people she has met and befriended on her journeys. Her use of ingredients is authentic and never overdone or so oversimplified that the cuisine loses its appeal. Her taste is refined and suited to the Chinese palate. We can expect to find recipes for dishes we won’t normally find in a Sichuanese restaurant – these recipes come straight from her travels and from the families she’s stayed with. Expect to find dishes like sitr-fried bitter melon with chinese chives, lily flower, cloud ear and sliced pork soup, mung bean and rice porridge. Dunlop understands the balance of sweet, sour, savoury and spicy in her recipes – the recipes reflect the sophistication and diversity of the food in the Hunan region. If you’d like a recipe for Chairman Mao’s favourite dish – red-braised pork, it’s even in here. For those new to China and its varied regional cuisines – this is a wonderful introduction to the region; Dunlop demonstrates how to marry different elements of flavour, balancing the characteristic Sichuanese peppercorn chilli-hit with other subtle taste dimensions as well. One gets the feeling that she is sensitive and respectful to the people featured in the book and it shows in her rich narrative and cooking.

Bartender! There's an egg in my cocktail!

2009-11-04T16:29:00.006+10:00

Imagine you take a sip of water from a glass. The last thing you would expect is the water glass to smell like egg. One of my pet hates is drinking from glasses that smell like raw egg. Cafes that wash up glasses with egg-sullied plates should really try drinking from their glasses – it’s not a pleasant experience. I’ve always been a little strange with eggs. I don’t mind them cooked – properly but as soon as I get a whiff of raw egg yolk – my gag reflexes activate and there’s nothing worse or glamourous about gagging over an innocent glass of water. As a child I was forced to have super soft-boiled eggs for breakfast – I can even see them now – and smell them. I used to pour soy sauce and shake white pepper all over them to make them taste better. Usually post-breakfast would consist of me stopping myself from throwing up on the school bus. Most children, and some adults I know look forward to licking remainder cake mix from the mixing bowl. I personally can’t think of anything worse. But I will happily slather mayonnaise on my sandwich! Continuing with my exploration of Esquire’s Handbook of Hosts, I was very interested in reading what cocktails the 1940s/50s set drank. It was a surprise to find in total, 25 cocktails that have an egg yolk or white incorporated into the recipe. If you, like James Bond, like your martini shaken to a blurry, alcoholic mess; and not stirred, I’ve chosen some standout egg-infused drinks for you to make, or avoid. These, I think take the eggy-smelling water glasses to a new high.

Prairie Chicken
1 pony* of gin
1 egg n claret glass
pepper and salt
Cover top with gin and serve

My Sin Cocktail
1 oz. absinthe
1 oz. anisette
1 drop bitters
white of egg
Plenty of ice, shake well and strain

Lil Naue
1/3 cognac
1/3 port wine
1/3 apricot brandy
1 teaspoon sugar
1 lemon peel
yolk of egg
Shake well with cracked ice and serve with cinnamon on top

Pousse L’Amour
1/3 Maraschino
drop in 1 yolk of egg
1/3 crème vanilla
1/3 brandy
Egg yolk must not run into the liqueur.

1 pony = 1 oz.

Here are more eggy cocktail recipes should you crack a craving for them.

http://www.barnonedrinks.com/drinks/by_ingredient/e/egg-437.html"">

Another stab at this thing called blogging

2009-11-04T16:05:00.005+10:00

Well, after my last server permanently deleted my blog because they thought my site was spam, and after a long hiatus, and several false starts, I've decided to give this thing called blogging another go. I mustn't have the heart of a blogger really, a feeling of self-consciousness washes over me when I try to take pictures of my meal in public. Blogging about eating out is very possibly out of the question, besides there are so many good foodies blogging about their food adventures, supplemented by gorgeous pictures and shots of stunning food. Food photographer I am not. I also cannot bake successfully, my tendency to alter recipes is disastrous in the arena of baking, though sometimes, surprises do come out of haphazard experimentation. I don't use recipes, I don't cook a hell of a lot. I mainly cook from memory and mood, I also happen to like the challenge of making whatever is in the cupboard/fridge. Okay, so what does that leave me to blog about? Well, I do like reading food books and leafing through beautiful cookbooks. We'll see, the blog will evolve hopefully, in its various guises and rhythms. If you stick around, I hope this will be a good distraction. I'll post up some of my old entries to get this baby boiling!

Esquire's Handbook for Hosts

2009-05-29T20:28:00.000+10:00

I recently stumbled upon a 1949 edition of Esquire’s Handbook for Hosts in an op shop. It was a rare find, I could hardly contain my excitement – I couldn’t believe my luck when the volunteer asked for $1 for the book. I did a little private jig inside, paid my $1 and set off my merry way. It’s been such an interesting read, dipping in and out of this book that I thought I’d share some bits and pieces from the book.

The chapter on kitchen equipment that a man-host needed made me take notice. We are talking late 1940s here – I was expecting the list to read something like this: wooden spoon, big frypan, saucepan, potato masher, carving knife, bread and butter knives and a wooden chopping block. Here are necessities Esquire recommended that a ‘man’s kitchenette should contain’:

A kettle, a set aluminium saucepans preferably with long handles, a frying pan, a roasting pan, a double boiler, at least one earthenware casserole, a wire sieve, a wire salad basket, an egg beater, mixing bowls, three kitchen knives, a small wooden chopping board, a vegetable brush, a wooden spoon and fork, a spatula, a long fork, a grater, a funnel, a pepper mill, a pair of scissors, an aluminium measure, a basting spoon, a coffeepot, a teapot and a wooden salad bowl…a pressure cooker is helpful for vegetables, onion-chopper to wire whisks, a good can opener, a good toaster, a waffle iron and a good coffee-maker that does it work at the table make a good kick-off.

Special equipment included: skewers for shish kabab, alcohol-flame chafing dish for almost anything dressy. Deep-fry kettle and basket, rolling pin, pastry board, baking pans, special molds for baba au rum or the like; small, shallow frying pans for crepes Suzette, an omelette pan.

I don’t even have half of these items in my own kitchen and I live in the twenty first century! What an eye-opening list of must-need items. Perhaps the sophisticated post-war man was a lot more capable than we first imagined. It certainly blows away my stereotypical image of the 1950s man coming home to his wife who waited hand and foot with slippers ready, pipe and tobacco primed, with dinner warming in the oven. Perhaps this was what bachelors had – not married men. Married men didn’t have to worry about their own meals, of course, their wives did all the chopping, dicing, baking and roasting. It was the single man who needed to deck out his little kitchenette for he was out to impress with his cooking skills and cocktail-making abilities to woo the single woman.

For table ware, it was even more interesting and actually, surprisingly quite strict – modern china and linens with simple and striking designs (preferably devoid of pink rosebuds) , with streamlined silverware were recommended. Esquire recommended tablecloth or runners in solid colours with contrasting borders, or resplendent with your monogram in big, bold letters. ‘Peasant designs’ apparently allowed for a lot of latitude. A man may have used gay Czechoslovakian linen cloths in raucous plaids or checks. ‘Your china may be Mexican pottery, Californian pottery in vivid sun-drenched colors or French Provencal or Italian pottery’. The modern 40s man may have even allowed himself such whimsies:- wooden-handled cutlery or salad forks with bright painted handles. I wonder if a single woman who had dinner cooked and laid out for her on dainty pink rose plates sitting on gaudy table runners who have thought her date a little fruity – would she have run away a mile?
As for your pantry shelves in your bachelor pad – these were Esquire’s emergency stock: butter, flour, sugar, salt, pepper, onions, oil, vinegar, baking powder, gelatin, Parmesan cheese, coffee and tea, cocoa, mustard, ketchup, Worcestershire sauce, anchovy sauce, Hungarian paprika, curry powder, capers, bay leaf, garlic cloves, vanilla, caraway seeds, raisins, rice, macaroni, black peppercorn, nutmeg, prunes, brown sugar and arrowroot.

These I thought were pretty solid ingredients to have in any pantry – the prunes and arrowroot perhaps a little old-fashioned but nevertheless, caraway seeds, garlic cloves, Hungarian paprika and capers are all very exotic and impressive. I would have been impressed if a man opened his cupboard and had all those ingredients on his shelf!

And if he serves you tongue tidbits* as a starter on plain white china – you know you’re in for a real saucy night!

* Tongue tidbits, by the way if you’re interested in making for a truly authentic 1940s canapé goes something like this (a la Esquire):

Spread English mustard, red pepper and olive oil on sliced tongue. Then pack the slices together and put the whole business in the icebox until the mixture soaks into the meat. When ready to serve, pull the slices of tongue apart and fry in butter. Serve hot, with thin slices of bread.

(Recipe can be found on p. 23)

Crazy for noodles

2009-05-29T19:54:00.000+10:00

Those of you addicted to noodles will know that there are several things in life that really satisfy – and noodles is one of life’s little satisfactions. For some, it’s chicken noodle soup – home-made, not the canned variety, mind you. To me, few things comfort like a bowl of nutritious Vietnamese pho. A plate of smoky Malaysian char koay teow can also tip me over the edge into nostalgia and feeling like I’m home. Nothing beats a good robust laksa either. Imagine my delight when I chanced upon Terry Durack’s book, Noodle, at the library.

It may be an oldie but it’s definitely a goodie. Despite the curious, overblown font size throughout the book – the photographs by Geoffrey Lung are beautiful. The book is broken up into useful sections: First section ‘noodle i-d’ helps readers identify the type of noodles available. Durack describes the general mouthfeel of the noodle, where they’re commonly used, what names they disguise themselves in different countries (very useful), how they’re sold and packaged and lastly how to cook them. The other half of the book is recipes. Noodle recipes are broken up into countries, covering China, Japan, Malaysia, Thailand, Korea, Laos, Cambodia, Philippines, Indonesia, India, etc. There are traditional recipes i.e. wonton soup with fresh egg noodles, pad thai, and some glammed up, modernised noodle twists like bang bang chicken noodles, cross the bridge noodles. The recipes are easy to follow, earthy, not pretentious and very multicultural. The book is interspersed with quirky little narratives about the act of noodle-making, the history behind famous dishes, and the magic of longevity noodles. The book ends with Durack instructing on ‘basics’ like tempura batter, laksa paste, Sichuan chilli oils, and homemade udon and egg noodles. Noodle makes a good reference book as well – something definitely to have on your cookbook shelf.

All snooty dining and haute cuisine aside, “Terry Durack tosses truffles and caviar to one side to declare his obsession with the world’s most nutritious and nurturing food: the proud, brave, democratic people’s noodle. ‘I’m over the rare, the exotic, the extravagant,’ he claims. ‘Noodles are the future’”. So you heard the man, find your nearest pho restaurant or ramen shop and slurp those slippery things with abandon.

The world according to Ferran Adria

2009-05-29T18:17:00.000+10:00

A Day at elBulli: an insight into the ideas, methods and creativity of Ferran Adria is one of those intimidating tomes you don’t want to carry around for too long in your bag. The damn thing feels like it weighs about 10kgs! The folks at Phaidon have gone all out in producing a spectacular and aesthetically interesting book on the culinary maestro. The book is broken up into a kind of a diarised-day-in-the-life of elBulli, down to five minute intervals in the day. The day starts at 6:05am and finishes at 2am. A Day at elBulli charts Adria’s creative processes and development stages of his dishes. The book is visually appealing and kept interesting with the interspersion of smaller inserts of text and photography. Staff are even named and photographed. It even goes as far as describing Adria’s criteria for choosing his produce and the provenance of produce. Foodies who want to know how a successful restaurant runs its reservations systems will be fascinated to discover that elBulli receives 2 million requests each year; and only 8000 places are ever released. The reservations manager explains how a complicated preferential system for new and old customers, considerations for diners who will travel around the world to eat at this gastronomic temple. Having said that there is no prejudice against local Spanish diners either, a percentage of places is set aside for the locals who want to dine at the temple. Just reading about the amount of emails and phone calls they receive about reservations boggles the mind.

The photographs of Adria, his brother, Albert and their staff in the kitchen and dining rooms feel authentic and impromptu. A lot of the shots look untouched and everybody looks natural, like no camera was present. Foodies with a penchant for food porn will no less find this, extremely pleasurable! Come closer for intimate shots of the making of pistachio freeze-dried foam, ogle at the caramelisation method of encasing pumpkin seed oil in an edible caramel vessel. The shots are amazing and the experimental techniques used in this high-tech kitchen are even more amazing. There are even shots of several of the lucky 8000 guests who have managed to score a place. Extremely happy people embarking on a culinary once-in-a-lifetime adventure for the night – lucky bastards! For those who have a kitchen laboratory at home and a liquid nitro tank on hand, there are recipes to be read very thoroughly and made. For those of us who don’t have access to a kitchen laboratory, or 200 pounds to spare, or incredibly lucky to score a reservation – this is probably the next best thing to being there. A Day at elBulli is 527 pages of pure indulgence and a good insight into what makes Ferran Adria tick.